


Something tragic about you (something so magic about you)

by Roger_That_Sarge



Series: Unexpected [4]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Accidental Outing, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anniversary, Anxiety, Chats fault, Coming Out, Couple fighting, Fights, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Lance and Lando are anxious, M/M, Mistakes Are Made, Nightmares, Separations, Threats of Violence, descriptions of violence, happy end, implied homophobic family members, lando has good bros, nightmare involving assault, no one is actually harmed but the author who got emotional writing this, pierre and esteban are exactly as you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roger_That_Sarge/pseuds/Roger_That_Sarge
Summary: ‘Fuck’, Lando yelped, scrambling away from Lance and towards to computer in a panic, quickly ending his stream with no goodbye, just shutting the whole set up down with shaking hands.‘Oh god, what did we just do?’, Lando panicked, turning to face Lance.OrLando and Lance out themselves and angst ensues
Relationships: Alexander Albon & Lando Norris & George Russell, Esteban Ocon & Lance Stroll, Jenson Button/Sebastian Vettel, Lando Norris & Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Lance Stroll, Pierre Gasly/Esteban Ocon
Series: Unexpected [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069403
Comments: 27
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

‘Any plans for the break now that your free?’, Rob teased, tossed Lance a bottle of water as the younger lay flat on his back.

Lance managed to catch the bottle, throwing Rob a glare as it almost hit him in the face before smiling at the older man.

‘Not many’, Lance admitted, sitting up despite the slight ache in his abs, ‘A few days at home, maybe meeting up with Seb and Jenson at their flat here or in Monaco. We have no definite obligations besides enjoying the break’.

Rob waggled his eyebrows at Lance, grin spreading across his face as he lowered his own water bottle.

‘So, it’s we now, huh?’, Rob teased, watching as Lance flipped him off, flopping back down on the floor, ‘Gone are the days of single man Lance disappearing into the wilderness for summer break’.

‘Shut up’, Lance laughed, rubbing a hand over his face, unable to help his smile at the thought of how much he loved saying ‘we’.

A year ago, his life had looked different.

He had just left his fathers’ team with a string of bad luck having caused a surge in negative media. He’d been questioning himself, unsure of his future in the sport he loved. Unconfident in his decision to place his trust in McLaren, a team where he knew no one.

Now he was driving a fantastic car, fighting for podiums every other weekend and confident. He had a team behind him that had become a family. Each and every member of the team celebrating him when he did good and grieving with him when he failed. They held him up and told him there was always next week and gave him affection. He had a race engineer that believed in him, sang silly songs with him on the radio and laughed at his dumb jokes.

A lot had changed in a year.

Lance felt he had grown, matured in himself and his career. The beginning of a new chapter in which he didn’t just retreat into isolation every break.

A year ago, his life had changed when his teammate, his ‘rival’ had stood in front of him, cupped his face and kissed him while calling him stupid in the same breath.

Lance had never believed in life changing kisses. Those were for straight women in movies, not closeted Jewish boys from a very privileged family that raced in one of the world’s most expensive sports. Those kisses were for literature, for the pages of great novel that moved your heart and soul to tears.

Yet Lando had cupped his face and eased his worries with a simple kiss. His actions putting into place every emotion Lance had felt for the younger since he had joined McLaren months before.

Realistically he knew Lando had changed his life, hard work and smart decision had aided on that front, but Lando made it easier. He made him smile when the media tore him down. He kissed his knuckles when they were bruised from boxing and kissed his nose when it was cold. He played with his hair while they watched stupid movies that had the two of them complaining about why on earth, they were watching this garbage when they could watch something good.

He was the man that had nervously taken Lance’s hand, leading him into his hotel room with a stuttered ‘I hope I did this right’ and gestured to a Menorah, perfectly set, and admitted he had asked Lawrence what he could do to help him celebrate. He was the first person to listen as Lance prayed, waiting patiently even when he didn’t understand and stayed by his side as Lance connected with the one piece of home that he had felt drifting away from him during the last few busy years.

‘I’ had become ‘we’, and Lance couldn’t help the butterflies that set shooting through his stomach every time he said it.

‘It’s been a year’, Lance smiled shyly, glancing up at Rob who offered him a hand up.

Rob pulled Lance from the floor and into a hug, patting the younger man’s shoulder and swaying him a little bit.

‘I’m so happy for you, you deserve something nice after all these years’, Rob smiled back, hand squeezing Lance’s shoulder.

Lance shrugged, gazing at his feet in disbelief. Despite his family, Rob and Lando reassuring him that he could have this, that he could enjoy being happy and having someone who loved him as much as he loved them, it was hard to believe. Old insecurities crept in from time to time, usually Lando kissed them away and showed him how much he wanted Lance, and no one else.

‘He better be taking you somewhere nice’, Rob threatened jokingly, releasing Lance from the hug, ‘Or I will have to have a word with him’

Lance rolled his eyes, stretching a little before reaching for his phone where Rob had placed it on the windowsill of the gym. He scrolled past a few Instagram and Twitter notifications before he came across a text from Lando.

‘I’m taking him out actually’, he answered distracted, finger hovering over the text, ‘I booked the terrace at his favourite restaurant for privacy. Got some flowers and candles, asked them to hook up this playlist he made me a few months ago of songs that remind him of us, and I got him a promise ring’

Ignoring Robs cooing and teasing at his answer, Lance clicked into message, biting his lip to hide the smile that threatened to escape as he read it.

‘Happy anniversary, Lance. It doesn’t feel like it has been a year since I had to take matters into my own hands (literally) and kissed you. You’re insane to have stayed with me this long, sometimes I wake up and just can’t believe your still here beside me, snoring and drooling on my good pillows while holding me close. I’ve even grown to like your beard, although my thighs still haven’t forgiven me for that decision. I’m bad at expressing my feelings, the words get stuck in my head and come out wrong, but I’m glad it’s you. You who I come home to, you that knows how I like my sandwiches and you who loves me even when I shove my cold toes into your knees in the morning. I guess I want to say I love you, thank you for an amazing year. I can’t wait for you to come home so we can celebrate, see you tonight babe x’

‘Oh, go shower before you make me sick with that lovesick look’, Rob laughed, slapping Lance across the back with a rolled-up towel, making the younger yelp.

‘Not cool, man, not cool’, Lance laughed, rubbing at the stinging area before waving Rob off as he headed for the gym’s showers.

He could feel his excitement bubbling under his skin as the warm water washed over him. All he wanted was to get home and wrap Lando in his arms. Maybe they could spend a few hours celebrating before the reservation, get lost in each other before returning to the real world. Maybe they would simply cuddle, enjoying the weight of the other against them and the soothing rhythm of their chests rising and falling in tandem.

The thoughts swirled in his head as he got dressed, fingers brushing over kiss marks and bruises from the night before, making him shiver with the memory of Lando using his newfound strength to hold him down.

It had been unexpected and sexy, leaving them both worn out. Lance had had to drag himself from the bed that morning. He’d spent an hour simply watching his boyfriend sleep, tracing patterns between the freckles on his back and brushing back sleep tousled curls as Lando mumbled in his sleep, smile on his face.

Lando had still been asleep when he’d left to meet Rob, exhausted from the plane ride home and the race weekend. Lance had left him sleeping, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and now he couldn’t help but wonder if he was still there. Was he still lying in their bed, sheets clinging to him and sun light pouring in across his tanned skin, highlighting the marks Lance had left on him?

Or was he awake and curled in Lance’s hoodie like he often was on the couch as he watched Brooklyn 99 reruns on Netflix, laughing at jokes he’d heard a dozen times.

Thoughts of Lando, his smile and his laughter, the way a little blush always painted his cheeks when he said, ‘I love you’, swirled around inside Lance’s mind as he made the journey home through the quiet streets. His mind playing memories of Lando’s giggle, the cheeky smirk he gave Lance before doing something dumb and the feel of his hand holding his, fingers intertwined and thumb brushing his knuckles as he took winding roads back home.

The journey seemed shorter than usual, Lance’s tiredness melting away as he tucked the car into a spot by Lando’s, the garden walls surrounding their home giving him privacy to stretch as he exited the car.

He took his time getting to the front door, shouldering his gym bag as he unlocked it, toeing his shoes of and kicking them into the messy pile beside the shoe rack. It had been a gift from Alex who had almost broken his wrist tripping over one of Lance’s shoes, but neither he or Lando ever paid attention to it. Unless Alex was coming over, then they rushed to organise their shoes to avoid his disappointed stare and head shake.

He could hear some music drifting down the stairs as he passed them, Lando’s usual good mood playlist filtering down the stairs. He couldn’t help but smile as he dropped his bag into the laundry room to deal with later, picturing Lando bopping around their room as he did some mornings when he was in a good mood.

Lance continued to the kitchen, seeking out some water he knew Lando would have placed in the fridge for him when he saw the note Lance had left on his pillow explaining he was out with Rob.

However, he never got the drink.

Lance reached the door of the kitchen and froze. The floor, normally pristine, was covered in shards of glass as the remains of their glass casserole dish and what seemed to be one of the ugly tea mugs that one of Lando’s relatives had gifted them for Christmas. The shards were everywhere, spreading across the tiles all the way to the door and among them was a smudge of what Lance thought was blood.

His chest clenched as his brain tried to control the little bubble of panic welling within him. Reminding him that he was dating one of the clumsiest and most forgetful men on the grid, it wasn’t the first time Lando had been in a rush and dropped things. It was a common occurrence, at least once a month when they were home.

He calms his shaking nerves, edging around the glass, careful to not step on a stray shard while reaching for their broom when the screaming starts, the hairs on his arm standing on end.

‘Who are you? Get off me, no, get the fuck off me’, Lando’s screams erupt from upstairs and Lance feels the air get painfully ripped from his lungs, leaving each breath feeling raw as his body reacted instantly, sprinting for the stairs in a panic.

All he could of was the distress in Lando’s voice, the screaming that was still happening as Lando told someone to repeatedly get off him and to leave him alone, followed by a huge bang that made Lance stumble at the top step, hands shaking and full of fear.

He rushed towards the gaming room, hearing Lando groaning in pain and his mind blanked.

Before he knew it, he was standing in the room, hands tugging a shocked Lando into his chest and repressing a relieved sob as he fisted the back of Lando’s hoody before pulling back, hands wildly patting the other driver down and checking for any injuries.

‘Babe, babe what’s wrong?’, Lando questioned, shock and worry in his voice as he cupped Lance’s cheek, pulling the other driver to look at him, seeing the fear and worry reflected in the Canadian’s eyes.

‘I saw the glass…and the blood…and then you were screaming, and christ, Lando’, Lance chocked, feeling overwhelmed by the relief and panic still tearing at his skin, warring inside him as he processed the chair lying on the floor that had probably caused the bang he had heard.

‘Hey, Lance, I’m okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but I’m okay’, Lando reassured, running a soothing thumb along his cheekbone as Lance took a deep breath.

‘I was so scared’, Lance admitted, resting his forehead against Lando’s, letting the feeling of the under against him melt away the fear.

‘I’m okay, I promise’, Lando smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss against Lance’s lips, ‘My real-life Lancelot, eh?’

Lance couldn’t help the weak laugh that left him as Lando pressed a kiss to his cheek, before a voice cut through the little bubble they had created, and a blinking red light caught his eyes.

‘Shit, Lando, you’re still streaming mate’, Max Fewtrell was yelling, voice booming from the speakers where Lando’s headset had disconnected when the chair fell over.

‘Fuck’, Lando yelped, scrambling away from Lance and towards to computer in a panic, quickly ending his stream with no goodbye, just shutting the whole set up down with shaking hands.

‘Oh god, what did we just do?’, Lando panicked, turning to face Lance.

Only the other man was no longer standing, the weight of what had just happened had caused Lance’s knees to feel weak. The emotions inside him choking him until he felt dizzy, his body sliding to the floor where he currently sat. His back as pressed against the wall, face in his hands as he took deep breaths but Lando could see the other had failed.

He could hear his phone vibrating violently on the computer desk, the noise stifling.

They stayed in silence, letting the ominous buzz of the phone wash over them as nauseas, fear and anxiety coursed through them both.

They had never talked about coming out. Lando happy to exist in their private bubble like many drivers, keeping those that matter informed and those that didn’t at arm’s length. Lance had confided in him that he was content as they were, part of him still not ready for the stares and whispers of his strict religious extended family, knowing they would never approve of his happiness.

Yet here they were.

Out.

People had seen them kiss.

Lance felt sick, terror gripping every muscle as he realised there would be no safe exit from this. F1 was not a forgiving sport for those who deviated from its macho ideals. He could feel tears burning his eyes with the knowledge that they had painted targets on their backs. At the knowledge of how cruel the world could be to those who stood out and how this would be used against them for the rest of their careers.

If they still had careers.

He could hear himself making a choked noise, Lando making a similar sound. The sound of his knees hitting the floor like a gunshot reverberated in Lance’s ears as hands pried his from his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting Lando slide into this lap, drawing Lance’s head to shelter in his neck.

It was as if he was using his smaller body to shield Lance from what they both knew was coming. A horrific storm that would leave them battered and bruised if they made it through the other side.

‘It’s going to be okay; we’re going to be okay’, Lando whispered, hand in Lance’s hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple as the phone continued to demand attention.

Lance wasn’t sure how they long that sat like that, Lando cradling him carefully as if he were going to break or disappear. His breathing slowly matching Lando’s, pretending he didn’t feel the way the younger’s hands were shaking as he ran his fingers through Lance’s hair in attempt to sooth him.

‘We need…we need to call Zak, and Charlotte’, Lance whispered into Lando’s neck, gripping the youngers waist tightly.

‘Yeah, yeah we do’, Lando echoed, leaning back in Lance’s lap and blindly searching till he grabbed his phone. Lance could feel the shuddering breath, the little hiccup of fear in Lando’s breathing as the younger saw the notifications that had built up.

‘Loudspeaker?’, Lando cleared his throat, and Lance felt himself love him a little more for how he was trying to seem strong for the both of them when he knew Lando probably wanted to shut down, to isolate until his brain was ready to process this.

Lance nodded, retreating from his hiding spot, running a hand up and down Lando’s back, offering as much comfort as he could. Lando gave him a smile, the shy smile that was just for Lance when he did something sweet, making the older press a kiss to his nose. Feeling a bubble of affection rise in his chest as Lando’s eyes crossed, making him laugh as the younger shifted in his lap, melting against Lance. Allowing the older to hold him close, resting his head against the others as they called Zak, eyeing the 10 missed calls from him and Charlotte.

Their boss answered quickly, relief in his voice as he greeted them.

‘Oh boys’, Zak sighed, ‘You’ve really created a quiet a stir’.

Lance felt his throat catch, hands tightening around Lando, taking the words to mean they had fucked up. That there had been discussion between the time of the stream and them calling Zak.

‘We’re so sorry Zak’, Lando managed to keep his voice even despite the anxiety Lance could see on his face, ‘We didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Lance heard me yelling and thought someone had broken in and I didn’t text him that I was streaming. We’ve been so careful, but we fucked up’

‘We understand if…if there has to be a decision that benefits the team, we know that this will bring negative press down on McLaren’, Lance managed to get out, moving his hand to tangle with Lando’s as the other tucked his face into Lance’s shoulder.

‘Lance, Lando’, Zak spoke soothingly, affection clear in his voice as he spoke to them, ‘This is not going to affect your contracts. I called around, everyone on the board is an agreement that while this isn’t exactly how any of us would want this to get out, this changes nothing. You are our drivers, and right now our main concern is making sure you two are okay and to direct the narrative before the press can run wild. Charlotte is already drafting a statement beside me; we just want to check what you two want to do. This is your relationship; we will fully support you two through this’.

Lando let out a little sob of relief, gazing at Lance in disbelief as he smiled at the younger, squeezing his hand.

‘Zak, thank you, we’re a bit…a little panicked right now, but thank you’, Lance swallowed down his own relief, feeling his eyes burning again.

‘Boys, we have this handled. We are all here for you’, Charlotte chimed in, no trace of anger in her voice, ‘I’m going to release a statement saying that the team have been aware of your relationship since it started and that we are 100% behind you two and ask for your privacy to be respected, okay? Don’t worry too much, me and the girls will fight anyone who tries to spin this as anything but two clumsy drivers being stupidly in love’.

They couldn’t help but laugh at Charlotte’s words, the giggles bursting from them uncontrollably as she joined in, Zak chuckling in the background.

The conversation lasted another fifteen minutes, discussing various approaches to handling the situation, possible media commitments and video ideas they could engage with to warm the public to the idea of Lance and Lando, before ending the call and advising the boys to stay away from all social media and offers of counselling appointments in everything got too overwhelming.

Neither man had the energy to speak as the call ended. Lando simply extending his hand to help Lance from the floor after he had clambered out of the others lap. Lance let himself be led, letting Lando help him dress in comfy clothes before they fell into bed together, Lando pulling up Brooklyn 99 on the television in the room.

Neither slept that night.

*

Lando could feel it building, the frustration and the tension rising between them due to the situation they were in.

That first night they had laid together, Lando wrapped around his boyfriend, holding him close as if he could make it all disappear. At one point, Lance had pretended to sleep, giving him time to contemplate and process everything that had happened.

For the first day it felt as if Lando wasn’t truly attached to his body. Every action he committed, every meal and smile felt as if they belonged to someone else. He was a stranger in his own body, calculating and distant as Lance tried his best to stay connected despite the pressure that was being placed on both of them online and through texts.

The news had hit Lance’s extended family during the night. Lando had watched as Lance opened messages, his face pale and scarily devoid of any emotion that next next morning. He had watched as Lance sat motionless on their bed, a puppet with no strings as he scrolled through text messages and voicemails.

They had made Lando’s blood boil. The urge to scream rising as Lance clicked through voicemails stating they were praying for Lance’s return to God, that they had always known there was something wrong with him, or messages of pure hate being spewed by angry closeminded aunts and uncles who threatened to disown him.

Lando had tired to comfort him, tried to reach out and hold him, but Lance’s defences were on high alert. The older simply removing Lando’s arms from around him, smiling tightly before retreating to the shower, clearly needing time alone.

It had been then that Lando had first felt the disconnect inside himself.

While Lance was washing away words of bigotry and homophobia in the scalding hot shower, Lando had opened his phone. Scrolling through messages on Instagram and Twitter, through hours of comments and watching YouTube videos that had angrily been compiled by those that only 24hours ago were praising him.

‘What kind of driver bends over for another? #NotMyDriver’

‘I guess we know how he’s kept his seat all these years, how are those knees Norris?’

‘Never liked that Norris kid, always a little too sensitive, people like him don’t deserve to drive #LandoNorrisOut’

Thousands of Tweets and messages were burnt into his soul. Some tearing at insecurities he carried since he had called George at 15, terrified with the realisation that he was bisexual and not knowing how his family would react. Some trending with the hashtag #NotMyDriver, some sent directly to him threatening harm or hoping for him to crash out in the next race to make way for a better, straighter, more deserving driver.

Lance had taken his phone from him, brushing away the tears Lando hadn’t even known had fallen, and simply sat with him.

They tried to focus on the good, on the people defending them. The fans that were rejoicing in seeing diversity and representation in a male dominated sport. Trying to focus on messages congratulating them.

Lando tried to smile at the way Alex posted a simple picture of the two of them, Bi and Pride flag stickers attached with a simple ‘Be true to you, proud of you @landonorris @lancestroll’.

He tried to feel protected and loved when George had tweeted in his defence as he had done for Alex before. Simply posting, ‘Lance and Lando are two of the most dedicated and talented drivers on the grid. Their sexuality and relationship have nothing to do with their skill, their careers or the media. Love is love, its 2022, get over it’.

Despite their attempts to focus on the positive, it got worse as the days ticked by and people began to speak to the media.

Lando had dropped a glass, feeling sick as an interview popped up in his inbox 48 hours after their outing.

Lando had watched, anger and distress making his hands shake as he bit his lip hard enough to break skin as Jos Verstappen talked to Ziggo. His face distorted with anger and disgust, words crude and cutting as he spewed filth about Lando. Targeting him for simply being Max’s friend. Stating multiple times that Lando was sick and needed help, that he was ruining the sport and stealing a seat from more deserving and serious athletes.

‘The fact he hid such a thing, lied to the public and tried to project this….lifestyle as normal is disgraceful. That is not an F1 driver. I have already spoken with Max about this, making sure Norris didn’t try to hurt him with his ways. If I were McLaren, I would cut my loss, put a real man in that seat, not someone who is like…. _that’._

The words hit harder for the fact Lando knew Jos would have talked to Max, that his friend wouldn’t contradict his father and the lack of messages spoke of where Max was right now, of who was watching his messages depriving Lando of comfort he wanted to seek out as the words burrowed into his chest.

He could feel them twisting and eating at him, infiltrating his sleep, and whispering to him. They left him feeling frayed and tired, stressed to the point that he couldn’t stay still. Even organising the shoe rack in bid to keep his mind busy.

Lance was swallowed by his anxieties and worries, edging away from Lando at times and leaving the younger wanting to scream, to say it wasn’t him posting this thing or suggesting Lance only got the seat by sleeping with him. He just wanted them to go back to normal, for them to have been able to celebrate a year together in peace, not in awkward and tense silence.

The frustration and anxiety built and built until it escaped, making its way into the world before Lando could stop it one afternoon as he watched Lance step aside to avoid his hug, eyes glued to his phone and frown on his face.

‘So, you’re avoiding me now?’, Lando bit out, hurt swirling inside his stomach with the anger and frustration.

Lance had glanced up, tucking his phone away in the pocket of his hoody as he turned to gaze at Lando who had wrapped his arms around his own stomach in a defensive stance.

‘I’m not avoiding you; I just don’t feel like being clung to right now Lando, I’m trying to deal with…this’, Lance sighed, frustration clear as he ran his hand over his face.

‘I wasn’t trying to cling to you, I was trying to comfort you’, Lando threw back at him, ‘I know this is hard and I’m going insane here Lance and I know you are too, but you’re avoiding me, and I can’t take that, not from you’.

‘Well, what do you want me to do, Lando?’, Lance questioned, frustration clear in his voice as he gestured between them, ‘It isn’t exactly easy to just hug you or pretend everything is okay when I have people sending me abuse and my extended family weighing in on this as if it’s their business. I’m trying to fix things, but I don’t have time to do this with you right now’.

‘We wouldn’t be like this if you hadn’t burst in without checking if I was streaming’, Lando regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, having let the hurt and anger lash out at Lance.

‘Oh wow’, Lance chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the other, ‘So it’s my fault, is that what you’re saying Lando?’

Lando felt a lump in his throat, clenching his fingers in the material of his own hoody for comfort, looking away from Lance as he nodded. He couldn’t help but feel angry with the other, with the distance between them and with them having been careless enough to mistakenly out themselves, that Lance hadn’t checked.

‘For God sake Lando, grow up. Would it kill you to actually take responsibility for your mistakes instead of being petty and blaming them on me? You accuse me of never learning, but you hide behind that attitude and your goofy behaviour instead of admitting you’re at fault here too’, Lance accused, ‘You can’t childishly demand things and expect them to magically go your way. There’s two of us in this, I can’t be the only adult here Lando.’.

The words landed hard and unexpected, a punch in the gut that left Lando feeling empty as Lance just stared at him, waiting for an answer, or just letting the blows sink in, Lando didn’t know. He could feel the tears of frustration and hurt gathering in his eyes and he couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at the man who two days ago had said he loved him, and today was using words he knew would hurt against him, even if he had started the fight.

‘Lando…’, Lance whispered, regret in his voice as he took a step towards him.

‘I think you should go’, Lando croaked, turning his back to him, ‘If you don’t have time for this, for being with someone so…childish then just go Lance’.

Lando half expected Lance to argue with him, for his arms to wrap around him for the first time in a few days and they’d apologise. That they’d sit and talk about everything going on, about the emotions that were drowning them, tearing them apart like a particularly vicious wave during a storm.

Instead, all he heard was the familiar patter of Lance’s bare feet on the floor as he made his way to the stairs. He felt his heart crack as he heard the clatter of Lance tugging his suitcase from the upstairs closet, shoving a hand over his mouth to stop the noise that threatened to escape him as he stumbled to the sofa, curling up in the corner furthest from the door, knowing he wouldn’t have to watch him leave.

He existed in a numb state, hand still pressed to his mouth as Lance dragged the suitcase down the stairs teaching through the otherwise silent house.

‘I…’, Lance cleared his throat, Lando squeezed his eyes shut but no other words came. Only the click of the latch as Lance closed the front door gently.

It felt like a goodbye.

Lando wasn’t sure how long he sat there, the click of the door breaking a dam within him as he sobbed into the hand over his mouth. He could feel his chest heavy with the force of his cries, body crushed under the weight of the fight, of Lance’s word and the knowledge that phone buzzing in his pocket would be more words thrown at him to break him down.

At some point he managed to take out his phone, erasing all notifications and turning everything off except for WhatsApp.

His fingers hovered between George and Alex’s names, wanting to reach out to them, but holding himself back. They both had partners to spend time with. He couldn’t burden them with his problems, especially not with how petty and childish he had been acting since the news broke.

Instead, he opened Max’s thread, hitting voice note, fingers shaking too much to type anything coherent and began talking, ignoring the hoarse, wet sound of his voice and the tears still tickling his cheeks as he spoke.

‘I know you can’t get here; I know you probably can’t even answer because of your dad, but Max, I need someone right now. Lance is, oh god, Lance is gone, and I don’t think we can fix this Max. He’s gone and it’s all my fault Max, it’s my fault’.

He tugged the blanket from the back of the sofa, wrapping it around him as if it could protect him from the storm inside his mind as he gazed out the window. Just watching the colour bleed from the day as if Lance had taken it with him when he left. It kind of felt like he had as Lando just sat silently, letting the lights dim until he was alone in the dark.

His mind jumped from the argument to Lance leaving, wondering if he had hesitated, if he had cried or had it been easy to walk away now that they had brought the entire world into their relationship. He considered the words of strangers on the internet, telling him he was wrong, too effeminate, that he’d only achieved what he had by dropping to his knees or flirting with management. He considered those who hadn’t spoken out, consider Max’s silence and what this meant for their friendship, would he distance himself to protect him and Daniel, or would he still smile and hug Lando when they saw each other at Spa in two weeks.

The buzzing of his phone drew him from his downward spiral, desperately reaching for it as if the text from Max was a lifeline.

For a few seconds Lando held hope, believing his friend was going to come through, that it would an invitation to hide in Monaco or in Max’s English apartment with his friend, but it wasn’t.

It was from Carlos.

Lando felt as if he was on an endless uphill climb, every little bit progress saw a stumble that left him back at the bottom, a little more broken each time.

‘I can’t believe you tricked me. I thought you were my friend, like a little brother. Instead, you were…the thought we were close is disgusting. I feel sick just thinking about you now, you ruin everything. Delete my number. Don’t contact me ever again’.

He turned off his phone, biting the back of his hand to distract himself from the mess in his mind and stop the scream that wanted to escape him before the fight left him.

He was still staring at the phone, sitting in the darkness that was becoming all too familiar in a home that was once filled with laughter and love when he heard the door click open.

His heart lurched, listening for a familiar pattern of steps that never came.

‘Lando?’, Alex’s voice drifted through the hallway to the sitting room where he was holed up.

‘Mate, where are you?’, George’s worried voice joined Alex’s as they flicked on lights, ‘Max was in a heap over you not answering your phone, something about a voice note?’.

He didn’t have the energy to respond. Simply starting at the where his phone had merged with the darkness of the room before the light flickered on, wincing as his eyes burned. His face felt stiff from the tears that had dried on his skin as he closed them.

‘Oh Lando’, Alex sounded heart broken, his touch gentle as he sat beside the younger, pulling him gently to tuck into his side.

‘I’m so sorry, mate’, George’s hand was on his knee, thumb rubbing circles through the blanket to offer comfort.

It made Lando shake, blinking back tears as he wished it had been Lance that had come back, that he was holding him right now, not his worried friends offering comfort that acted as a plaster placed on a gaping wound.

‘We’re going to take you to Alex’s, okay? His family are on holidays, we’ll have the whole place to ourselves and you won’t be alone’, George reassured, ‘When you’re ready, we can talk about everything okay, but for now let us take you away and dog pile you until the world feels a little less smothering, yeah?’

Lando managed to nod against Alex’s shoulder, the older man running a hand through his curls gently as George left to pack a bag, knowing from experience where Lando kept his comfy clothes and things he would need for the break.

‘It’ll be okay, Lando’, Alex soothed, but his words felt empty.

Even as they bundled him into the car, George in the back wrapping him, blanket and all, in a warm hug, he still felt numb.

He closed his eyes again, leaning into Georges side, trying to take some comfort from the steadiness of his friend.

But in the end, the ache only grew stronger, more consuming as they pulled away from where they had called home.

He just wanted Lance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The break in between

Monaco had been the perfect hide away.

Esteban’s apartment was tucked away in a smaller town, away from the glamour and glitz where his neighbours knew his name and kept his privacy, all of them older and enjoying their golden years. No longer interested in the gossip and five minutes of fame that came with splashing their neighbours love life across front pages and Instagram stories.

It was the perfect retreat for him and Pierre, a little hide away that few of their friends knew about that they could hole up in for a few days before reality caught them and they had to go back to ignoring each other for their rivalry.

Still, right here, in the moment with their phones on flight mode since they arrived a few days before, Esteban truly felt like he had found a little piece of paradise as Pierre grinned at him, all cheeky and teasing as he pressed his wrists into his mattress below them.

Esteban couldn’t help but smile back at him as Pierre leaned down, pressing kisses over his cheek and jaw. Giggling as he traced his lips along his neck and his beard tickled his skin as he squirmed under him as one hand drifted from his wrists to tease along his side.

Esteban was trying not to struggle, to piss Pierre off, knowing he would drag out his torture when the other man went stock-still above him, head cocked as if listening to something in the distance while Esteban whined, getting a hand free to urge Pierre to continue when his wrists were pinned down again as the other kept his eyes on the door.

‘Pierre please’, Esteban begged, shivering under the weight of the others body.

‘Shut up’, Pierre whispered back, rolling off of Esteban, eyes still on the door, ‘I heard your door open, someone’s out there’.

‘What? Pierre, there’s no one out there’, Esteban sighed, tugging at the others arm, trying to pull him back over him.

‘I’m serious Esteban, there’s something out there’, Pierre hissed, getting annoyed with the pout on Esteban’s face.

‘Well, I don’t know how you could hear anything because a few minutes ago I was sure we were getting a noise complaint because you’re a noisy bitch Pierre’, Esteban grumbled, shifting uncomfortably with energy that now had nowhere to go, ‘No would get your-’.

‘If you ever want me to finish what I started you will go make sure we’re not being robbed or stalked’, Pierre demanded, glaring at the other man as he lay on the bed in defeat.

‘Hand me my boxers’, Esteban sighed, holding a handout as Pierre dug around the edge of the bed, tossing the underwear at Esteban, and placing a kiss on his shoulder.

‘Don’t die, I just got you broken in, I don’t want to have to train a new one’, Pierre teased, but hand gently squeezing Esteban’s as he stood to leave. A wave of affection rushed through him as he pressed a soft kiss to Pierre’s lips before exiting the room quietly.

He crept along the hallway, grabbing a random statue that Pierre had brought with him the last time they had found time to escape to their little hideaway, ready to face whoever or whatever had made its way into the apartment.

He stopped at the end of the hallway, glancing round the corner.

In the soft light of the reading lamp beside the sofa, Esteban could make out a figure sitting still. Slumped forward, head bowed. He could hear little stuttered breaths, as if the person was having trouble breathing or were crying. A case was upright beside the sofa, airport tag hanging from the handle as Esteban crept closer before his mind registered something.

He knew the slope of those shoulders and the ugly grey dinged up suitcase with NY Giant stickers on one side.

‘Lance?’, Esteban questioned gently but the other didn’t move, didn’t react to his voice.

Worry surged through Esteban. Lance only had a key for emergencies. Not once had he ever used it in the years since had bought this apartment. Yet here he was unresponsive in his Monaco flat.

As Esteban set the statue down, moving quickly to face his friend, what he saw broke his heart.

Lance was pale, paler than he was the last time he had caught a flu or crashed out during a race. Dark bags ringed his red puffy eyes, tears still falling as he stared at screen of his phone. He looked lost in a way Lance never was. The other always seemed confident, sure of himself and his place in the world. It was something Esteban had always admired about his best friend; he had a fire to him that lingered under his gentle words and demeanour.

Now he was curled in on himself, defensive even in such a vulnerable state. His eyes empty and almost glassy as he stared at his phone, a video playing with low volume, but Esteban recognised Lando’s giggle as he carefully sat beside Lance, trying not to startle the almost catatonic man.

He caught a glance of the screen, watching as a clip of Lance standing behind Lando. His arms around his waist and head on his shoulder, both of them wrapped in winter clothes and beanies as snow fell around them. Lando had his hand held out to a deer, the animal eating out of his hand as Lando laughed with joy while Lance just watched him awe. The clip had been posted by Chloe, a simple, ‘True love isn’t just for the fairy tales’, captioned the video perfectly.

It played on a loop as Esteban reached out, taking the phone and drawing Lance’s attention to him.

‘Lance, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me right now’, Esteban tried, setting the phone aside.

He tried to place a hand on the others arm but Lance flinched, his whole body jerking with the movement before he spoke.

‘Is there something wrong with me?’, Lance’s voice was destroyed, hoarse and cracked and he avoided looking at Esteban.

‘No, Lance, there is nothing wrong with you, or who you are. Please tell me you haven’t been reading what those closeminded idiots online have been saying’, Esteban reassured as anger surged in his gut. He had seen how people had been tweeting and writing about his friend.

He had spent three hours in the building’s gym trying to work out his anger until Pierre found him. They had sat in silence, Esteban trying to find the words, but Pierre just told him he felt it too. That is was tearing him apart to see one of the sweetest, most genuine men they knew be dragged across hot coals. To have his achievements be discredited because he loved another man. To hear the sport commentators accusing Lance of first riding his father’s coattails, and then having seduced Lando for a spot in McLaren because Lawrence had been disgusted by his own son. They had reached out, spoken out, put out statements and stood as a united front with their other friends and family to try protect Lance and Lando.

Yet here Lance was. A shell.

‘Not them I don’t care about strangers on the internet, they will never approve of me even if I was straight, but my family, god, my family Esteban’, Lance choked out, twisting the bracelet on his wrist so tight the skin turned white before he released it, ‘They hate me. They want to fix me, and I always thought I would be prepared for it, I knew it was coming but it fucking hurts Este. Aunts and Uncles, cousins that were like siblings, they want me to get help because I love Lando, and now, now I’ve let them in my head, and I don’t know if I have him anymore’.

‘First off, fuck them. You listen to me okay’, Esteban demanded, reaching out a letting his hand hover over the others shoulder before Lance nodded and he rested it there, making the other look at him, ‘There is not a single thing about you that needs to be fixed. Not even the way you drool when you sleep or always laugh at stupid jokes. If their love is conditional, then you don’t need it. You have your parents, you have Chloe who would take on the world for you, you have me and Pierre, Seb, Checo, George, Alex, Charles, hell you even have Max on your side even if he won’t say it. You have Lando, the man thinks you created the world and looks at you as if you handed him the entire universe. They can’t change that; they can’t take them from you’.

Esteban shook his shoulder lightly, feeling some of the fear ebb away as Lance gave him a tiny smile, the movement so imperceptible that Esteban truly couldn’t be sure it had happened. Yet the tension in Lance’s shoulder eased a tiny bit before he looked down sadly once more.

‘I... want to say you’re right. I do, but my brain is telling me the opposite and it got so hard to breath at home that I screwed it up Esteban. I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t go to my family because I know as hard as Dad tries, they’ll come over and try fix me. I can’t go home’, Lance let out a little sob, ‘I can’t go home because I let it get inside me, I let it ruin us. I couldn’t even let Lando hug me because they made me start to hate myself for being happy. They convinced me I was broken, and I didn’t want to take Lando down with me on this spiral I can’t stop, so I snapped. I said some awful things. I purposefully used words that would cause him pain, and when he asked me to leave, when he needed me and was crying, I left and came to hide here. I don’t even know if he’s still sitting there waiting for me to comeback or if he hates me now, but I think I lost him when I lost me during these last few days, and I don’t know how to fix it’.

‘Oh Lance, he could never hate you’, Esteban felt his own throat tighten with the urge to cry as Lance looked at him, distress clear in his eyes and tears falling heavily, sobs catching in his throat, ‘Lando loves you. He knows that this is overwhelming and that you’re dealing with a lot, I’m sure he is kicking himself over this fight too. Maybe you just need some time apart to process this, but Lance, I can’t see him letting you go. He looks at you as if you’re his forever’.

‘It’s true’, Pierre’s voice drifted into the conversation, making the two on the sofa look behind them to where he was leaning against the wall, wearing Esteban’s hoodie, ‘Lando adores you. You just need time to process everything that has happened, and then you two will talk, and it’ll be okay again’.

‘Do you really think its that easy?’, Lance whispered, raising a hand to wipe at his tears.

Pierre smiled softly, making his way to the sofa, and sitting on Lance’s other side. Unlike Esteban’s hesitation, Pierre wrapped his arms around Lance, pulling the Canadian into a warm hug while reaching a hand out to grab Esteban’s wrist, tugging him until he pressed against Lance’s other side.

He never let go of his wrist, rubbing his thumb across the inside while speaking softly.

‘Nothing in a relationship is easy, Lance. Everything takes effort and communication. It will be hard, what you two are facing is truly horrific, but you are stronger together’, Pierre reassured, ‘You just need to make sure you are ready to have that conversation when the time comes. So, take your time, stay here with us. You’re not hiding, you’re healing and Lando will understand that’.

Lance nodded softly, the last bit of tension slipping away as he melted slightly into the warmth of his two friends surrounding him with nothing but love and understanding.

‘Let’s put on something and make some hot chocolate, you need some good French cuddles to take your mind off of everything’, Esteban suggested, feeling his chest tighten at the way his Pierre had been able to sooth Lance’s fears for now.

‘Sounds like a plan, mon nounours’, Pierre smiled, holding Lance tighter as the younger cuddled into him, and reached for the remote with a free hand to flick on the tv, selecting a random sitcom for them to watch.

As he lay later that night, Esteban dozing against his back and his head pillowed on Pierre’s shoulder, wrapped in their tight, warm hold, Lance felt something ease a little in his mind.

Even then, he missed the feeling of Lando’s arms around his waist and his cold toes pressing into the back of his knees.

*

The wind whipped around Lando, almost cutting him with the cold ferocity as he made his way to the stables that they had built for Tinky when she retired.

Alex had to take a zoom meeting with Alpine. The Thai had gotten a big break at the end of 2021, Alpine looking to replace Alonso after he struggled with the car and remaining in a competitive spot despite the advances, they had made with the car in 2021. Alex was finding it a much mor encouraging environment, and having been friends with Esteban first, he had settled right in. Now he was constantly calling with the team, learning everything he could and working with them at every turn, something that had endured him to his crew.

George had left earlier, all spruced up, giving Alex a wink when he had whistled at him.

Neither would say it, but Lando knew things were working out with the guy he had started seeing, making the older feel guilty when Lando was still in a half zombie state.

Over the last few days, Lando had gone from moments of feeling nothing, just existing. He’d seen the worried looks exchanged by his two friends, watched as they attempted to cheer him up with his favourite cheat meals and cuddles, but it was still as if he were watching from behind glass, as if he couldn’t them or himself.

Alex had said his brain was trying to protect him from everything that had been happening since the outing when he found Lando staring at a half drank mug of tea at 4am.

Occasionally he had moments of clarity. Moments where the joking arguments between George and Alex or trashing Charles online on COD over a discord call while the others slept made him laugh, made him crack a smile and feel normal.

Then a new notification would pop up, a new message, a new video of someone touching themselves and asking how much for a night since he obviously was with Lance for pay, would make its way into his inbox.

He would wake, disoriented and smiling to himself, trying to cuddle into a familiar warm and sturdy body only to meet with the cold side of the bed, realising all over again that Lance was gone. That he had told him to leave and he had.

Every morning was as if he was tearing open a slowly closing wound, making it fresh and leaving him feeling weak and vulnerable.

Eventually, he had stopped sleeping, only napping when he could close his eyes and lean into George or Alex and pretend, they were someone else.

Despite the efforts of his friends who were going above and beyond to help him, Lando found a strange sort of calm and peace taking over him whenever he volunteered to feed and rub down Tinky.

He couldn’t help but smile softly as he entered her stable where they had tucked her in for the night, her gorgeous black head peeking from behind her stall door as she flickered her ears in recognition.

‘Hey gorgeous’, he cooed gently, reaching out a hand only for her to shove her muzzle into his palm, licking at his fingers in demand for food.

He set to work, finding that taking care of Tinky reminded him of hours spent with Flo whenever he was home. Just him and his sister, neither of them really needing to speak as they cared for her horses. Eventually one of them would start speaking, whatever troubles or thoughts they felt they couldn’t share with their parents or Oliver and Cisca coming spilling out.

It was their own little bubble, a way for them to connect in spite of their busy and rapidly expanding careers.

‘Here you go pretty girl’, Lando soothed, filling her bag with a mixture of oats and vegetables, stroking her soft muzzle, enjoying the sound of Tinky nosing at her breakfast and letting out little please huffs before sitting on the ground, tugging his phone free from his pocket.

George and Alex had tried to hide it from him, not wanting him to torture himself with the wrath of the internet, but after simply stating that Lance was currently god knows where and his own anxiety was through the roof, they had simply deleted his social media apps after the last vicious message sent him into a spiral.

They had even installed a child lock, ensuring he couldn’t re-download the apps for his own mental wellbeing.

He checked WhatsApp, clicking into the thread with Lance. His eyes read over the message he had tried to write at 5am when his eyes were burning, and his hands were shaking because he needed to know Lance was okay, that he was somewhere safe, that someone was protecting him from the things Lando couldn’t.

He had no new messages, making him sniffle back a tear as he rubbed at his eye.

‘If you keep doing that, you’ll go blind’, a voice teased softly, making Lando jump.

Max was standing inside the door to the stable, one had tucked in his jeans pocket and the other playing with the peak of his cap, readjusting in nervously before making his way to sit beside his friend as Lando watched him warily.

‘I didn’t think you’d come’, Lando admitted, fiddling with his phone, refusing to look his friend in the eyes.

He felt guilty for doubting the older, for entertaining the idea he would abandon him. He knew Max had distanced himself from Jos, that he had stopped seeing him outside visiting his younger siblings.

‘That’s fair, but Lando, you’re one of my best mates. Nothing he says will ever change that, and…’, Max swallowed, looking down at his hands, ‘You scared the shit out of me Lando. That voice note sounded…you sounded like you had floated away from your body, if you get what I mean? It was like that time when we were younger, you sounded exactly as you did then, and I panicked. It brought me back to that night when you called me…and we couldn’t find you, and I don’t want you to go back to that dark place again Lando’.

Lando sniffled again, wiping at his eyes before turning and wrapping his arms around Max’s waist and pressing his face into Max’s hoodie as his friend’s arms wrapped around him.

‘I’m not…I’m not doing great, but I’m here, I promise’, Lando whispered, closing his eyes, ‘I was scared and hurt and confused, I didn’t mean to scare you’.

‘I know, and I understand’, Max reassured, rubbing the youngers back, ‘I have never wanted to murder people as badly as I have over the last week. Neither of you deserve the things they’re saying about you, and I hate that I can’t speak out without Him ruining me or figuring out Dan is my everything, it was killing me not to be here for you’.

‘You’re okay Max, you’re here, that’s what matters’, Lando mumbled, his eyes lids feeling heavy as he listened to the rise and fall of Max’s chest.

‘You haven’t been sleeping again, have?’, Max sighed, all too familiar with the signs of Lando’s spirals, of the way his body and mind betrayed him when things got too much.

‘I…I don’t know where Lance is’, Lando bit his lip, wiping at his teary eyes again, feeling a weight compressing his chest, ‘He left and I keep thinking about him alone and hurting, but I can’t bring myself to text him. I’m afraid he’ll tell me we are over, that this killed us’.

Max pressed his cheek against Lando’s head, smiling softly as he did.

‘He’s with Pierre and Esteban, Pierre let me know in case you were worrying, and he wasn’t sure you’d answer the phone if he called’, Max soothed.

He felt a tension leave the younger boy in his arms, a slight relaxation as he leaned heavier against him, breath coming out in a soft sigh against Max’s neck as he gripped Max’s hoodie tighter.

‘Oh, thank god. He’s not alone’, Lando let out a relieved sob before going silent.

They sat there in silence Max rubbing up and down Lando’s back soothingly. He tugged the younger closer, more into his lap as Lando’s breathing got heavier, the youngers face relaxing and on the verge of sleep.

He grabbed one of the warm riding coats off of the desk beside where they sat, wrapping it around Lando as he began to sleep for the first time in days.

Just as Max pulled out his phone, planning to text Daniel that he was okay, that Lando wasn’t okay but he was here, the younger spoke softly.

‘Thank you for calling Alex and George, I don’t think I would have been on okay on my own’, Lando mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the soft material of Max’s hoodie before sighing and falling asleep in the other’s arms.

Max held him a little tighter after that, staying on the cold floor until Alex found them an hour later.

*

Lance woke choking on a scream.

His body twisting away from hands and firsts as he gasped for air, his own hands reaching for someone he could no longer see in the blackness that surrounded him. Their screams in his ears, their name on his tongue as he gagged and choked on it. Scrambling to be free of the sheets that were holding him down as his stomach lurched violently as images flashed behind his eyelids.

The twisting broke him free. His body falling to floor with a crack that sent a surge of fear and pain through him as he scrambled towards the guest bathroom just in time to wretched into the toilet, sobbing as he did.

It had felt so real,

He thought it was real.

He could still hear Lando screaming, hear him begging for them to stop, for Lance to help him as hands held Lance down, as his face was pushed into the gravel.

His fingers scratched at his cheek between gags, expecting to find blood on his hands and for pain to bloom from open wounds.

He pressed his forehead against the cool toilet seat, breathing deeply despite the smell of his vomit, in attempt to calm his shaking but it played behind his closed lids like a horrific movie, never ending and tearing at his very soul.

It had started beautiful, Lando’s hand in his as the other laughed wildly and talked a mile a minute, his eyes seeking Lance’s as they strolled along. There had been so much love in those eyes, those green eyes that by the end had been dazed, confused, and terrified before they had shut a final time.

They had come out of nowhere, grabbing Lando from his arms as the had stopped to kiss.

One second Lando’s arms were around his neck, Lance watching as his boyfriend, the man he loved, was just gazing up at him, that love reflected back as he cupped his face, and the next a hand fisted in his own hair, dragging him backwards painfully as Lando let out a cry.

Hands were everywhere, laughter ringing as he was shoved the ground, his head connecting hard with the floor before a knee speared into his back, forcing a gasp out of him, and pinning him to the ground.

‘Lance’, Lando had shouted, his voice terrified before he let out a whimper as a harsh slap was delivered to his face.

He tried to fight, he tried to throw them off him and reach for Lando, but they yanked an arm behind his back, a hand pressing his face into the gravel, tearing his cheek as he tried to shake them off as Lando began to scream. The sounds of fists hitting flesh and his cries overwhelming his sense.

Lando’s screams filling the air between hits and kicks, choking off with groans as each blow came harder and faster.

‘Please, please’, Lance heard himself begging, watching as Lando tried to break free, sobbing as he reached for Lance, face swollen and bleeding, blood bubbling from his lips as he tried to curl away from the hands reaching for him, stopping him escaping as he sobbed Lance’s name.

‘This is what happens to people like him’, a warm, disgusting breath laughed in his ear, yanking his head to focus on the scene before him as he cried.

‘Lance, lance please’, Lando sobbed as he was thrown to the ground.

The crack was deafening as Lando’s head struck a railing Lance hadn’t seen before.

His eyes were wide, huge and scared as he tried to call for Lance once more but only a soft gurgle leaving his lips before his eyes closed and he went limp.

Lance had screamed, screamed and begged, struggling against hands and laughter until he had startled himself awake.

Remember the dream, the realistic feeling of hands on his skin sent his stomach reeling again, retching once more as he whimpered, still feeling those hands on him.

He stumbled to his feet, disorientated, and sobbing, flushing the toilet and rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

He needed to find Lando.

He needed to see Lando.

Lando was gone.

His brain tripped between the dream and reality, telling him to pack, to find Lando and never let him go again. A darker part of his brain, the part still trapped in the dream, on that floor in the gravel, told him it was too late. Lando was gone. He had let it happen. He had failed.

His hands shook as he tried to breath, dragging clothes into his case but dropping them everywhere, knocking his phone from the nightstand with a bang as he tried to grab the charger.

All he could focus on was Lando.

He needed to find Lando and then everything would be okay. The ache in his chest would ease, he wouldn’t feel the need to vomit or struggle with the zipper of his case because he’d know he was okay, he could hold him, and it’d all be okay.

‘Lance, what’s going on?’, Esteban’s worried voice cut through the sound of white noise and Lando’s screams that still rung in his head.

He didn’t spare his friend a glance, forcing his case closed as he spoke.

‘I have to go, I have to find Lando, I have to see Lando’, his own voice sounded slightly deranged, distorted by the hoarseness from the scream and the sobs, still burning from throwing up.

‘I heard you screaming’, Esteban stepped into the room, ‘Lance you’re shaking and crying, please tell me what’s wrong’.

‘I can’t, I don’t have time Esteban, I have to…I need to see Lando’, Lance choked out, dragging his case to the ground with a heavy thump. He was pretty sure half his clothes were on the floor, but he didn’t care anymore.

‘Lance, you’re not driving like this, so you tell me what’s going on and I will drive you to the airport or I will fucking sit on you like I did when we were teens and you stay right here’, Esteban warned, closing the bedroom door and leaning against it.

His words triggered the dream, the feeling of the knee in his back and being held down. Being helpless while Lando was brutally attacked just like all those messages he had received threatened.

He let out a distressed sound, knees going weak as he tried to speak but all that came out was a sob as he felt himself start to collapse towards the ground as Esteban rushed forward to catch, both of the crashing to the ground.

‘Lando, I need…he…he’s gone Esteban, it felt so real and he’s not here. I was so scared, I can’t protect him, but I need to try, I need to go’, Lance babbled, clutching at Esteban’s shoulders as the other made soothing noises, holding his friend close as Lance’s breathing grew ragged.

‘Lance breath, breath with me’, Esteban urged, taking deep breathes while Lance copied, his own stuttering between sobs, ‘Lando is fine, whatever you think happened didn’t, he’s okay Lance, just breath with me’.

‘He was gone, Esteban they hurt him. They made me watch and then he…he closed his eyes, and he didn’t get back up, I need to see him, but I don’t know where he is’, Lance cried, ‘I lost him, oh god, I lost him’.

‘No, you haven’t, you haven’t lost him’, Esteban reassured, trying to wipe the cascading tears from Lance’s cheeks, cupping his face, ‘Breath. It was a horrific dream. Lando is okay, just focusing on breathing okay? I’m going to facetime him, and you can see he is okay, alright?’.

Lance clutched at Esteban, nodding as he took deep shuddering breaths. Trying to calm his mind, holding onto the little hope he had as he watched Esteban pull out his phone, requesting a FaceTime, only to have it fail, sending his heart clenching as he rested his head on Esteban’s shoulder.

‘He hates me’, Lance whispered, trying to think of why Lando wouldn’t answer Esteban. The only answer being he had assumed Lance was with him and he knew Lance had failed him.

‘No he doesn’t, he could never hate you, its 4am Lance, he might not hear the phone’, Esteban soothed, trying again only for it to fail.

Esteban tried again, running a hand along Lance’s side, encouraging the other to relax, to breath, praying that Lando would answer after his third attempt failed.

He was beginning to curse the Gods when his phone pinged, Alex’s name lighting up his screen.

‘Hey Esteban, I have Lando’s phone. He’s been with us since Lance headed to yours. We deemed it bad for his mental health right now, what’s going on? Everything okay?’

Esteban types as quick as he could with one hand, still making sure Lance was okay as the other cried silently.

‘Oh, thank god, Lance is having a panic attack. He had a night terror in which Lando got hurt, can you send me something or convince Lando to call’.

A few seconds later his phone beeped with another text, picture attached to Alex’s, ‘Give our other boy a hug from us, tell we’ve got Lando’

Esteban handed his phone to Lance, poking the other gently in the side to make him look up and take the phone, smiling at the sound of relief Lance let out as he gazed at the screen.

A picture of Lando, awake but tired looking gazed back at him. He looked tiny, smothered in Lance’s customized NY Giants hoodie, part of the Stroll 18 visible as the younger clearly looked over his shoulder at Alex, giving him a half smile. His thick rimmed glasses were perched on his nose, curls lose and messy, control in hand. It was clear Lando hadn’t been sleeping either, shadows barely visible under the glasses, but he was okay. He was breathing and safe, Alex had him.

He sat there with Esteban, holding the phone, and letting himself take comfort.

Lando was okay.

And maybe, just maybe, they would be okay soon together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit, this fic has gotten away from me. It was meant to be one chapter but I want to get all the emotions right so it has now been split to there, the happy ending is coming. I just want to give it the attention it deserves <3
> 
> I cried writing this one so sorry for the angst and thank you for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

Stepping into the paddock at Spa was like coming home for Lando and Lance. There was something about the atmosphere and this track that held a special place in their hearts no matter what happened on race day.

Yet returning this year felt terrifying.

The paddock seemed alien, cold and distant. Everywhere they went eyes were on them. Watching every move, whispers following each of them as they arrived Thursday morning on track.

Lando hadn’t slept the night before, having arrived with Max, George and Alex and reporting straight to Helen to go over his schedule for the weekend.

Helen had hugged him fiercely, tears in her eyes as she told him how proud she was on him, the rainbow pin accompanied by a bi pride flag on her jacket making Lando tear up as he held her close.

Despite multiple calls with Zak, Andrea, Helen, and Charlotte, Lando still had a fear that this would affect his seat. That at any moment the rumours that ran wild on Twitter would come through and he’d be replaced by one of the younger drivers from a smaller team, Callum being the name thrown around.

The other Brit, driving for Williams next season, had even reached out to Lando, reassuring him that nothing of the sort was happening and he would never accept it if it were offered.

Lando had appreciated the gesture, but the fear was still there.

Even worse was the ache inside him, the flutter of pain and hope, the joy and heartbreak that swam inside his chest threatening to drown him when he first saw Lance again.

The other had been with Rob on his side of the garage, Rob pressed close, hand on Lance’s shoulder as he talked to the other, clearly a private conversation protected by the noises around them.

Helen had been ushering him along, filling him in on the Sky F1 interview he had, going over the presenters for that week and the approved questions. That was a new thing. McLaren had started to filter their questions for journalist, issuing a set list of things they could and couldn’t ask in attempt to protect them.

It had been then, as Lando hummed, eyes still on Lance and hand rubbing at his chest where the ache formed, that their eyes met and Lando felt time stop. He knew his body was still moving, but I felt as if he was wading through jelly, drinking in every expression in those eyes, hope unfurling in his chest as Lance offered him a shy smile.

He felt himself stumble over a wire, Helen steadying him and laughing but Lando could only refix his gaze on Lance, watching that smile and offering him a bright smile of his own, waving awkwardly.

Despite the fight, despite not having seen of spoken in a little over two weeks, Lando still wanted to run to him. He wanted to apologise and hold him, to place kisses on his cheeks until Lance laughed and cupped his face and kissed him softly like he always did.

He started to take a step forward, watching as Lance did the same, moving as if he wanted to pull Lando into his arms, but a hand stopped him.

‘You can get all cosy and lovesick with your boy after the Sky F1 interview, now wave goodbye and keep marching’, Helen teased, shaking him a little as Lando blushed.

He turned once more, giving a quick pout in Lance’s direction. He ignored the urge to run to him and hug him, knowing Helen would murder him for delaying the interview. Instead, his pushed the emotions down, waving at Lance as the other smiled at him, making a shooing motion with his hands while biting his lip.

Lando’s chest felt a little lighter as they moved away from the garage.

Part of him had been terrified that Lance would ignore him. He had been afraid he would pull him aside and kindly let him know that it had been too much, and he wanted to let go, give them up so he could focus on racing and not having abuse hurled at him daily. Pat of Lando had told him it was only fair, that he had caused the fight between them, pushed the other too far when he was already overwhelmed and broken what they had.

Yet Lance proved him wrong at every turn.

As he approached the Sky F1 section of the media paddock, Jenson smiling at him brightly with a hint of worry on his face, Lando swore to himself that he would find Lance after this interview. He would apologise, explain his own insecurities, and promise to work through this if Lance still wanted him. He would make it right.

For now, he plastered on his media persona. Smiling brightly at the sight of a little pride flag pinned to the breast pocket of Jenson shirt, joining him as Helen hovered in the background.

The interview was passing quickly, the rapport between them as witty and amusing as ever, leaving both men clutching their stomachs over some jokes. The questions asked focused on racing, analysing his past performances on the track, and jokingly predicting where Lando thought he would end up on the grid.

‘P1 of course, come on Jenson, if anyone will win at Spa it has to be me’, Lando teased, giving the camera smirk.

‘I suppose Cisca wouldn’t let you come home if you lost on her home soil’, Jenson laughed as Lando nodded.

‘Have you been talking to my mother again, Button? I thought my dad warn-’, Lando began to joke, feeling more and more like himself as they chatted before a loud voice cut through the air, making his smile slip.

‘Honestly, it’s a disgrace,’ Marko sneered, shooting pointed looks at Lando from where he was talking to a group of journalists, ‘Letting people like that on the grid is asking for trouble. Racing is for men, not for those that submit to others.’

‘So, you don’t think Norris and Stroll deserve to keep their seats? There have been talks of petitions online, many fans are unhappy about this development’, a journalist enquired, smirking as he stared directly at Lando as he asked the question.

The way he eyed Lando, beady eyes fixed on the young driver made Lando’s stomach churn, sense screaming danger as he shifted uncomfortably, trying to remain focused and failing as he offered Jenson a weak smile.

He hadn’t notice, too busy with how the journalist was still staring at him, that Jenson had shifted, pretending to point at something one of his team was holding Lando from view, hand settling on the small of the drivers back as he offered him a data sheet to look at, prompting him to continue speaking.

Marko’s voice still rang over them, making Lando tremble slightly with the overwhelming need to hide.

‘Stroll has always been a weak driver. Dropped by Ferrari. McLaren need to man up and drop their PC bullshit and cut their loses’, Marko continued, ‘Norris has always been…. aloof, it’s no surprise really, but I wouldn’t want him around my drivers. No driver will feel comfortable around someone like him, despite how ‘okay’ they seem with it on social media. Those two being in the paddock will bring the death of this sport as Ecclestone said in his statement this week about the whole dirty scandal’.

Lando felt himself shrinking, barely managing to keep the interview going and feeling tears prick the back of his eyes when another voice spoke up beside him.

‘I think it’s absolutely fantastic Graham, its about time this stuffy old sport joined us in the 21st century’, Daniel beamed, staring down Marko over the journalist’s shoulder, making the old man shift uncomfortably, ‘This sport needs more representation and not the FIA’s ‘We race as one’ until money is on the line bullshit from last year, but actual representation and those guys are fantastic drivers. Couldn’t ask for better examples too be honest; I’m fucking proud of them and McLaren. Anyone who has a bad thing to say about Lance or Lando because they’re LGBTQ+ can get fucked’.

The Aussie driver smiled at Lando, throwing him an exaggerated wink and a ‘Hey handsome’ as he walked past. A pride pin proudly displayed next to a pansexual flag pined to his shirt.

Lando couldn’t help but burst into giggles as he often did around the other driver, apologising to Jenson and the Sky crew who were all smiling at him, a few throwing glares at Marko as he walked away, head down after Daniel’s pointed speech.

The rest of the time passed quickly before Jenson was handing Lando a bottle of water, patting his back soothingly with a knowing look in his eyes.

‘Daniel was right, they can all get fucked Lando. Seb and I are so proud of you for getting through this,’, Jenson muttered softly, pulling the younger driver into a hug that looked friendly form the outside, but was as comforting to Lando as having his parents here with him for support.

‘Thank you’, he sniffled, holding onto the older driver for a second longer before pulling back and offering him a smile.

‘Ignore Marko, he’s a bitter wanker’, Jenson advised, loudly this time for other journalist to hear, watching in glee as they jotted down his words.

Lando couldn’t help but smile the whole way back to the garage for his track walk knowing that tomorrows headlines would be about Daniel defending them and Jenson calling Marko a wanker.

*

All Lance wanted to do from the moment he stepped off the plane, Esteban and Pierre at his back as they made their way to the hotel, was call Lando.

The urge had hit him like a slap to the face the moment he arrived for the race weekend. Reminders of the year before when everything was still new and exciting between them. When they were trying to figure out if it was Lewis or Kimi who had put that ring on Sebastian’s finger and all moments in between consisted of sweet stolen kisses, knowing smiles and stolen moments behind stacks of tyres where they just held each other. Taking comfort from having someone to lean on, to support them in a way that family and friends couldn’t.

His fingers itched to run through thick curls, untangling them gently as Lando rambled on about some game, head on his chest and eyes close as his fingers traced Lance’s tattoo soothingly.

Seeing Lando for the first time during the chaos of Thursday had made his knees weak. The soft smile on the younger face told him everything he needed to know. The way Lando’s face lit up as if he was gazing at the secrets of the universe when their eyes met had hope blossoming in Lance’s chest, hands involuntarily twitching out towards the other, to beckon him close so he could press a kiss on the others forehead and tell him he loved him. That he wanted to fight this with him, not without him as they had done for the past few weeks.

Watching Lando stumble, that bashful look on his face that he got whenever he rushed out of his gaming room to find Lance had saved his dinner or found Lando standing over another broken mug or with burnt fingers under a tap making Lance smile, a small laugh escaping him as Rob had rolled his eyes, making a teasing comment about youngster and love but Lance was focusing on the way Lando was pouting at Helen and throwing a sad glance at Lance as he was dragged towards the media pen.

‘You two handling all the attention okay?’, Rob asked, fixing the pride pin on his jacket and voice concerned as Lance turned back to him and away from Lando’s rapidly disappearing figure.

Lance shrugged, offering him a smile before an engineer called his name, wanting him to look over some adjustments and get a feel of the car to make sure it was set up properly.

Lance was grateful for the distraction, not knowing how to answer Robs question. Did he tell him that he and Lando hadn’t seen each other since Lance had left without looking back for Monaco? That they had fought after days of tension and Lance ignoring the younger who had been trying to help? Or did he tell him that they were doing okay, that it was a challenge, but they were facing it together and just smile until it became true?

Lance didn’t know how to tell Rob that the media no longer bothered him. People had been talking about him for years and downplaying his achievements, but it hurt every time he reached for Lando in the morning and he wasn’t there, when he wanted to tell him a joke or show him a picture Chloe had sent him only to turn and find Pierre and Esteban sitting in the kitchen and not Lando.

Despite the weight on his chest, the fear that everything would end in Spa after a year where Lance had been happier than he had ever been, he knew by that smile Lando had offered they could fix this.

If only they could find time.

It was as if Spa had decided that the timing wasn’t right for them. That they couldn’t be together when there was a race to focus on despite the main topics of conversation that weekend being about their relationship as journalist dissected rumours and performances from Friday’s practice.

Lance had only caught glimpses of Lando after seeing him on Thursday. The two of them rushing from meetings to sponsor events to their cars. Even after debriefing on Friday, when Lance had almost caught up to the younger, the two of the making eye contact and Lando tilting his head towards his drivers’ room in invitation, they couldn’t seem to make it work. Jon appearing and declaring it was time for Lando to pee in a cup again and joking that he better not take as long as last time while telling Lance he could have his boyfriend back later that night.

Yet even then Lance had hesitated.

He had stood for fifteen minutes, hearing the sounds of Brooklyn 99 through the door of Lando’s suite, fist raised to knock but something held him back. A feeling deep in his gut telling him not now, not yet, give it more time despite the stole smiles and longing looks they had exchanged across the garage throughout the two practices that day as they watched their engineers rush around, pride flag pins on their overalls and hands twitching to reach out to each other.

In the end had walked away, ignoring the wolf whistle Rob and Jon sent his way as they caught him rounding the hallway to head back to his empty room where he sat fiddling with his phone, waiting for a text that never came.

He had missed Lando in the morning, opting for quick breakfast with his dad, reassuring him that he was fine. He had sat in awe of his dad, listening as he spoke of cutting off family members and having talk a few around with the help of Chloe all to defend Lance. His father’s concern for Lando, the way he spoke of having reached out and talked to him during the weeks that he and Lance had been separated, made Lance love his dad a little more as the older man spoke gently to him.

He felt himself tear up a little, blinking them back and giving his dad a watery smile as he handed him a pride flag pin with a little Star of David in the centre, asking him to help him pin it on so he could show everyone how proud he was of his son.

Lance had tried to catch Lando before practice, wanting to speak to him before the McLaren Challenge recording later that evening, knowing that it would be hard to do with them not speaking, but he failed.

There was a rush after practice with the team wanting to get them fed and watered and relaxed before qualifying. The McLarens had been outperforming all but the Mercs with the Red Bulls struggling with electrical and engine issues that required fixing, possibly leaving a second row lock out up for grabs or maybe even higher. The roar from the garage and the cheers when they came home with a second-row lockout behind George and Lewis in the Mercedes had almost deafened Lance over the radio as he screamed with excitement as well with his race engineer.

All thoughts of talking to Lando were gone from his head as he returned to the garage, jumping at his team to celebrate the P3 he had secured, glimpsing Lando surrounded by his own team, laughing, and cheering at the weekend they were having.

It wasn’t until Charlotte had knock on the door of his room, reminding him that they needed to head to the room they had booked for filming that Lance’s stomach had filled with something liked dread, not knowing how he or Lando would survive.

The Challenge had been one that Lando had jokingly suggested that night they had outed themselves. His head pillowed on Lance’s shoulder while the older held him, laughing as him and Charlotte bickered back and forth over whether or not they could do an adapted version of the Newlywed Game but for Lance and Lando, a way to show the fans their relationship while displaying that nothing had changed between them. The teasing and play fights from the earlier challenges having not been for show, but just them being themselves.

At the time it had seemed like the perfect way to display the new dynamic and get fans laughing.

Now Lance felt nervous, and excited. Sick almost. It would be the closest they had been since before the fight and Lance wanted to sob with both relief and fear as he sat behind the table set up for them, Lando getting his mic sorted and looking everywhere but at Lance.

Everyone was wearing pride pins again, making Lance marvel at how much this team functioned as a family. They even took their nervous demeanours as being worried about filming, taking the time to reassure them and remind them that they could stop or not answer if they go uncomfortable.

Lando joined him at the able, slipping into the seat beside him and offering Lance a shy smile as he reaches for the boards, they were given to right their answers on.

‘Can we talk after this?’, Lando asks softly, playing the cap of the whiteboard marker, ‘I really miss you’.

Lance swallowed around the lump of affection that lodge in his throat before whispering back a simple.

‘I miss you too’.

He wants to say more, to take Lando’s hand and tangle his fingers with his, but Charlotte clears her throat, signalling they’re getting ready to start.

Lance shifted in his seat, smiling through the introduction although Lando as usual did most of the work, throwing him cheeky glances as he laughed at the others explanation of the game before Charlotte issued the first question.

‘Okay boys, first one is an easy one to start us off’, Charlotte smiled, ‘When did you first meet? Just give us the year and then you can explain’.

Lance smiled to himself, uncapping his marker and making quick work of his answer. He remembered the first time he saw Lando. Remembered thinking he was tiny and part of him had worried that the kid was too young to race with them, only to find out the other was actually 17 despite his height and appearance.

The timer buzzed, both of them dropping their markers and throwing each other smirks.

‘You better have gotten this right’, Lando threatened jokingly, putting on a pout as Lance laughed, just shaking his head at the other before Charlotte told them to flip the boards, revealing their answers.

‘Wait, Lando! We met in 2016 not 2019’, Lance exclaimed, staring at the others answer in disbelief, ‘We literally raced against each other in F3 that year’.

‘No! That doesn’t count, we never spoke during that year. The first time I ever introduced myself to you was during testing 2019, so technically you knew of me, but we didn’t meet till 2019’, Lando explained, looking at Lance exasperatedly.

The crew were giggling at how it was the first round and already they had gotten a question wrong.

‘We literally did promo shoots for F3 together with everyone, how does that not count?’, Lance argued, turning towards Lando as the other shrugged, refusing to concede his answer.

‘Lando gets the point, he makes a valid argument’, Charlotte laughs, indicating for them to wipe the boards clean to move on.

‘Question two, what was your first date?’, Charlotte asks, curious as the two had never really talked about their dates in the garage.

‘I swear if you get this one wrong...’, Lance joked, glancing at Lando who cradled his whiteboard toward his chest.

‘Charlotte! Lance is cheating!’

‘Lando, what? No, I’m not!’

‘He was peaking at my board!’

The buzzer sounded.

‘Hey! We got it right!’, Lando laughed, nudging Lance with his shoulder as Lance glanced between their boards.

‘Look at us, remembering things’, Lance joked, his smile softening as he glanced at his answer, ‘We should really go back to that little pizzeria and park next time we race there. It was amazing, but I don’t want to name the place because it was our little secret. Do you remember-’

‘Sneaking away from Jon and Rob at the hotel and just disappearing into the city until we stumbled upon it?’, Lando finished, gazing at Lance and brushing his hand of his, ‘One of the best dates I’ve been on’.

‘Only one of the best?’, Lance made an offended noise, shoving the other as Lando started laughing again and Charlotte had to clap her hands to get them to refocus.

‘Who’s the tidiest?’, Charlotte continues.

Lance and Lando are laughing before they even write their answers, still giggling and throwing either looks and nudges with their elbows as they turn their boards around at the sound of the buzz. Both saying ‘Alex’, before Lando bursts out laughing, leaving Lance to explain how Alex keeps buying them things to organise the house because while it’s not a disaster its normally a little too messy for the tastes of their friend.

‘Where was your first kiss?’.

Lance felt his face heat up slightly at the question, biting his lip as he wrote down the answer. He felt something brush his hand where it rested on his thigh under the table. Just a soft brush before Lando’s pinkie linked around his, dragging Lance’s to rest between them as the other smiled softly but kept looking forward as the buzzer sounded.

‘My driver’s room after shooting a McLaren challenge in Hungary’, Lance smiled, squeezing his pinkie around Lando’s gently.

‘Yeah,’ Lando laughed, leaning on his left elbow, resting his cheek on hand, and looking at Lance, ‘Someone here couldn’t figure out I was flirting with him, so I made the first move’.

‘Best move you ever made’, Lance replied, only half teasing as their eyes met, Lando’s alight for the first time since they had come out.

‘Okay next question’, Charlotte smiled, flicking through her cue cards, ‘Which Disney character is the other most like?’

Lance snorted, biting his lip as he wrote the answer, hunching his body over the board as he did to hide it from Lando, their pinkies still linked out of sight.

‘Okay boys, this one should be funny. Lando, why don’t you go first’, Charlotte gestured.

Lando flashed the camera a sneaky smile, unhooking his finger from Lances to grasp the board and turn it around, showing the cameras ‘Flynn Rider’, as his answer.

‘It’s the hair, and the confidence Lance carries. It just really reminds me of Flynn from Tangled’, Lando explained, pink blush high on his cheeks as Lance resisted the urge to kiss his cheek, instead letting his hand rest on Lando’s thigh for a moment before turning to the cameras.

‘Toulouse’, Lance shrugged, looking around at the confused faces of the crew and Lando who’s mouth had dropped open slightly, ‘You know, Toulouse? The orange kitten from Aristocats?’.

‘A…a cat?’ Lando spluttered as the crew erupted into laughter, ‘You think I’m like an orange animated French cat?’.

‘Yeah, because he’s arty like you’, Lance explained, ‘And he thinks he is really tough when deep down his this little goofball’.

‘Wow,’, Lando scoffed in mock anger, the half-smile telling Lance it was for show along with the amused look in his eyes, ‘I compare you to a handsome Disney prince and you think of me as a kitten, weird flex Lance but okay’.

‘Simmer down boys, the next question should be interesting’, Charlotte gave them a wicked smirk, ‘Who is the others first celebrity crush?’.

‘Oh, I know this one, we’ve had plenty of conversation about this’, Lando laughed wickedly, almost a cackled as he stared writing, ignoring the little pinch Lance gave his thigh.

‘It is so on; your sisters and mother have told me all about this’, Lance smirked, writing the answer he had had to google pictures for once Flo and Cisca had filled him in while Lando and Oliver were tinkering with karts over Christmas.

‘Alright Lando, since you’re vibrating in your seat why don’t you go first’, Charlotte laughed, watching as Lando bounced a little with excitement, unable able to control his giggles.

‘It’s Jenson’, Lando almost yelled, nearly popping out of his seat with glee, ‘He had such a huge crush on Jenson growing up. He still blushes sometimes when we’re talking to him, especially when Jense is all like in a suit or a white button. It’s really cute. He’s known Jense years but sometimes he still thinks of him as a crush and-’.

Lando’s voice gets cut off by Lance lunging at him, clamping a hand over the others mouth which Lando promptly licks, causing Lance to make a startled noise and release him.

They glared playfully at each other before Lance turned to the camera, revealing his board.

‘Lando didn’t have one, but two celebrities’, Lance said pointedly, watching as Lando groaned and sunk down in his seat, face red, ‘Dick and Dom, from some show about a bungalow? His sisters showed me clips and well, interesting choices Lando’.

The entire crew were howling in the background, Charlotte and Helen nearly falling from their seats.

‘Shut up! You’re the one that had a picture of Jenson inside your wardrobe, Chloe told me!’, Lando accused, staring down Lance while trying not to laugh.

‘Lando, everyone knows about the picture of Alex, so what is your argument here?’, Lance gasped with laughter, not even defending himself as Lando shoved him, just letting his body fall to the floor as he laughed, tears falling down his face.

Eventually, Lando helped him up, Lance pulling him in for a hug, feeling the other sigh as if this were what he had been waiting for, for weeks. He felt Lando’s fingers tightened in his McLaren polo, holding him closer before they settled for the next question.

Lando’s hand found his again under the table. His thumb brushing Lance’s knuckles and for the first time in weeks the world felt as if it might make sense again. His chest fluttering with so many hopeful and loving emotions.

And then Charlotte read the next question, and Lance felt as if the air was suddenly sucked out of the room leaving him lightheaded as he turned towards Lando.

‘What was your last fight about?’.

The younger had dropped his hand as if it had burnt him, a small, choked noise leaving his throat as Lando’s face went blank. Gone was the laughter and amusement, his eyes downcast and brows furrowed as if he was in pain.

‘No’, was all the younger managed to say, never looking up.

Everyone felt the change in atmosphere, noticing how Lando shifted away from Lance slightly, hand shaking as he fiddled with the pen.

Charlotte smiled, accepting the no, and stating that they had gotten enough for the video, having them record a quick ending in which Lando was declared the winner for having got the first question right.

The second the camera stopped recording Lando was moving, politely excusing himself from the room before Lance could get a word in.

This time however, Lance didn’t hesitate, scrambling to follow the other and throwing apologies over his shoulder to try catch Lando as the younger sped towards his drivers’ room, managing to catch up to him, gently catching his wrist.

Lando stopped briefly, only to tug his wrist free and turn towards Lance. Face devoid of all emotion as he gazed over his shoulder. It was as if he wasn’t even registering Lance’s presence as he wrapped his arms around himself in protection, an echo of that night sending Lance reeling, mind replaying everything.

‘Lando, please’, Lance asked softly, reaching out to the other as if trying to catch him and bring him back to his own body.

‘I... I can’t’, Lando choked out, hands clenching in his own top, ‘I thought I could but it all…she said fight and it all came back. It was like a slap Lance and I know it was my fault, I did this to us. I broke us.’

‘No, baby no you didn’t’, Lance tried to sooth, trying to reach him but Lando was too far gone, ‘There was too of us in this Lando, if we can just talk, we can-’

‘I can’t, no. I’m sorry’, Lando whispered, a tear streaking down his face as he stepped further away, ‘At least not now. Its too raw and we, we have a race tomorrow. There are so many expectations, too many eyes on us this weekend, I can’t lose this too.’

Lance opened his mouth to speak but Lando was already disappearing into his drivers’ room, the door clicking shut softly and lock sliding into place as Lance watched helplessly.

He walked towards the door, resting a hand on the cold frame.

‘You haven’t lost me. I know it’s overwhelming and scary, but baby, I’ll be right here when you’re ready, hamatòk sheli’, Lance reassured, knowing from the little sniffle that Lando had heard him.

Walking away was a lot harder after having a taste of what he had been missing all those nights in Monaco.

*

Despite the overwhelming sadness and hurt that had followed Lance like a shadow Saturday evening, stepping into the garage Sunday morning had been like taking a breath of fresh air.

There were little pride and bi flags strung everywhere, even the jackets on the tyres had rainbow stripes on them and every employee had a pride flag or a flag representing their own sexualities pinned to their jackets.

Lance had been speechless when his team had waved him out to the grid with little flags, watching as Lando was also in awe, laughing and beaming as if the night before hadn’t happened. As if their coming out hadn’t been traumatic and scary, but as Lance gazed at this family he had found in McLaren, everything felt okay.

The rest of the world could scream and shot and wave poster boards full of crude language and hate speech as some spectators were, but his family were draped in rainbows and even from the starting grid, he could see fans proudly waving flags of their own.

Despite the way they had ended the night before, Lance was feeling confident, soaking in the cheeky grin and tight hug Lando had given him back in the garage, a ritual they had developed after they had started dating. A quick way to say good luck, be safe, bring it home.

He’d taken to the race with a crackling energy. The support of his family and friends, his fans who often seemed to few but were louder than any hate, sparking something deep within him and washing away the fear and anxiety over his uneasy relationship status.

The second the lights went out, Lance took to the track with a shark like intensity, pulling away clean from Lando beside him and Sebastian behind him, catching Lewis at the first corner and trying to close the gap to George.

The battle was fierce and exhilarating, watching in his wings as Lando managed to manoeuvre passed Lewis, blocking the other Mercedes as he chased down George.

After a few laps, Lance lost track of Lando, the team reporting he had had contact with Max. The Dutchman retiring while Lando battled his way back up the field but Lance focused on chasing George as Sebastian and Lewis nipped at his heels, the two racing rivals not conceding as they got within edge of the McLaren.

However, it seemed as if Lady Fortune was smiling down on Spa and McLaren during this race.

Lewis slowly losing power, a malfunction with the car and George getting a puncture that tasted much to like the Sahkir 2020 GP when Lewis a bug leaving George to almost taste his first victory.

Lance had felt for the other driver as he zoomed past but focused on the fact he was running in P1 with less than ten laps to go.

And then luck started to slip.

‘I’m losing power, Vettel gaining’, Lance tried to stay calm, watching his mirrors for Sebastian.

‘Vettel may catch us in a lap or two, hang tight buddy, we’re figuring it out fast’, Ben reassured softly.

Lance took a deep breath, continuing his course and listening to the suggestions Ben was tossing out, feeling the victory slipping from his grasp.

‘Come one, come on’, he muttered softly, Sebastian behind him, trying to overtake but Lance was still a little quicker, just dancing out of reach.

‘Okay Lancey, power should be reeving back up now so hang on’, Ben laughed as Lance let out a ‘thank fuck’, feeling the car begin to respond to him.

However, Sebastian was still fighting him, keeping Lance on his toes and as he watched for the older man’s moves, reacting and however one had them both running wide, and in that moment he glimpsed another car taking advantage of the slip, shooting in P1.

‘Damn it’, Lance sighed, but doubling down on his defending, managing to keep P2 until Ben was yelling in his ear.

‘Fucking stellar job mate, I’m so fucky proud of you Lancey’, Ben whooped, ‘Masterclass in driving there mate, sorry about the P1 but I think you’ll get over it’.

‘Yeah, P2 is pretty great so I won’t complain…too much,’ Lance teased, feeling a small bit bitter about his last second loss of position, ‘Who won?’.

‘Didn’t you see when Vettel and you went wide?’, Ben’s voice crackled over the mic, ‘Lance, Lando won. It’s a double podium mate. He was stuck behind Vettel but shot passed when you two went wide into the turn’.

‘Yes, fucking yes’, Lance shouted, feeling the pride well in him for Lando as Ben laughed, ‘That’s my boy, he fucking did it. His first win. Oh my god, is he crying?’.

‘Mate, we’re all fucking crying. Will is a mess’, Ben laughed before directing Lance to pull into Park Ferme.

Lance sped through his shut down, spotting the twin McLaren beside his and stumbling though getting out of the car as Lando rushed past him, a blur of colours leaping into a sea of screaming and cheering papaya.

Once he had gotten free, fist bumping Esteban as made his way through the cars and hugging Sebastian, he turned, spotting Lando still engulfed in the crowd before he took off as Charlotte tapped him on the shoulder, pointing him towards Lance.

It was as if the same idea hit them, both of the running towards each other, helmets still on and shaking with excitement before Lance lifted the other clear off the ground, twirling him as Lando raised his hands in a victory cheer as their team cheered them on.

As he lowered him to the ground, Lando pressed his helmet against Lances, arm around his neck as Lance held his waist before they were urged back to reality.

They didn’t get to speak between taking their helmets off, weighing in, getting water, and getting interviewed. Lando and Lance surrounded by team members and friends, catching each other’s eyes over people’s shoulders.

Soon he found himself grinning, standing in front of an equally delighted Jenson who had two little pride flags tucked in the breast pocket of his shirt.

‘Congratulations are in order’, Jenson smiled, what a fantastic race Lance, you really displayed your command of the car even with Sebastian chasing you constantly during those last 15 or so laps’.

‘Yeah, for sure, it was a great race’, Lance smiled, fixing his hair, ‘Seb drove an amazing race, kept me on my toes the whole way round. Gave me a bit of a scare when I lost that power but I’m happy to battle with him any day’.

‘It surely was an exciting battle, and a masterclass in defensive driving’, Jenson hummed, ‘But I suppose losing the victory has put a little damper on that P2’.

Lance couldn’t help but laugh, eyes catching Lando who was standing a bit a way, wiping his face free from tears, and sweat, hair messy and balaclava lines imprinted on his cheeks.

‘For s few seconds for sure, but then Ben told me who had won, and I couldn’t be proud’, Lance smiled, still watching Lando, ‘My boyfriend is an F1 race winner, and I get to stand with him on the podium for his first win. I think that’s better than P1’.

Lando looked up at the end, beaming at Lance with fresh tears in his eyes that stayed fixed on Lance as he finished his interview. Their hands brushing as Lance made way for the race winner and heading towards Sebastian to wait for the podium.

‘I told you just over a year ago, that you were braver than you thought you were, and look at you now’, Sebastian praised, pulling Lance into a tight hug as the younger relaxed against him.

‘Thank you, I didn’t….I didn’t see it then but now, I feel it’, Lance whispered into his shoulder as the older patted his back.

‘They make us see the best in ourselves, even when we don’t want to’, Sebastian smiled, eyes drifting to where his husband was laughing loudly as Lando gestured wildly.

‘Yeah, they do’, Lance smiled almost shyly before falling into conversation with the Will as he joined them, pulling Lance into a hug and congratulating him.

Lando joined them eventually, glowing with excitement and vibrating with sheer, infectable joy as he jumped at Will.

Lance wanted to catch him, catch the pure sunshine that was radiating out of the younger, but they were being rushed along by officials, separated by people with clipboards and kept quiet as they were directed onto the podiums.

Lance felt ecstatic being back on the podium. Seeing a sea of papaya mixed with rainbow colours. Seeing his father standing proudly among them, waving his own little flag when he saw Lance glancing his way.

Yet nothing felt as heart stopping as watching Lando’s maidan win being announced, then seeing his boyfriend on that top step beside him, eyes filled with wonder and tears as he was handed his trophy, raising above his head with a laugh that sounded half like a sob of joy.

It was overwhelming watching him, tears in his own as they stood for the British anthem. Lando looked beautiful, stunning Lance as he stood eyes closed and basking in this unexpected piece of happiness at the end of what had been a never-ending tunnel of darkness.

Lance was struck by the fact that he loved this man as Lando opened his eyes, gorgeous green staring lovingly at him. He was struck by the fact that it didn’t matter who knew and what they thought, all he cared about was this. This man who was smiling at him as if there was no better prize than sharing a podium with Lance. A man who was loving and kind and everything he had never known he needed until he had kissed him in that driver’s room in Hungary.

No matter what tried to tear them apart, Lance knew that this is where he wanted to be and as the anthem came to an end Lance was moving.

The look of awe and joy on Lando’s face as Lance jumped onto his podium, cupping his face as Lando had done over a year ago, green eyes staring into deep brown, smiles etched on their faces as tears fell.

‘I love you’, Lance whispered, pulling Lando into a kiss that shook them to their very cores.

The type of kiss that drowns out everything around you, leaving only the feeling of your partner as you got lost in them as Lance and Lando did. Lance’s hands drifting to the younger’s waist, holding him steady as he pressed closer, one hand on Lance’s shoulder, the other cupping his neck as everything clicked back into place.

They were so lost in each other that didn’t notice the flag Sebastian pulled from his racing suit, draping around their shoulders proudly before turning to Will with a smirk.

Not even the shower of champagne could interfere with the moment on the top podium.

Lando and Lance only pulling back when their smiles grew too big, and the tears tickling their cheeks.

Confetti swirled around them as their forehead pressed together in mimicry of the pose from earlier when Lance had held after the race.

Lance knew they still needed to talk. That it wasn’t as simple as declarations of love and kisses on top of podiums, but in that moment, as Lando returned those three words before dragging him off the podium to stand proud, draped in the flag, each of the holding a corner out at the front of the stage as their team cheered them on, he knew they would be fine.

After all the celebrations, the tears and cheers, hugs, and champagne, they managed to have their talk that they should have had the moment the fight had happened.

But as Lance lay in bed, watching the rise and fall of Lando’s chest against his own, felt the warmth of his cheek against his shoulder and drew patterns between the freckles on his back, Lance felt at peace with the journey that had taken them here.

For the first time in weeks, he opened his Instagram as the moon casted a silverly light across the bed and the body cuddled into his and hit post before settling down to sleep, arms wrapped tightly around the man he loved dearly.

Lando had cried in the morning, post appearing at the top of his feed.

Lance had posted a simple picture.

It was of them on the podium after the kiss that had settled the ache in his bones. Love and adoration clear in their faces as they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, tear tracks visible, arms tightly wrapped around each other as colourful confetti rained down, catching in their hair and sticking to the flag draped around their shoulders.

A simple caption accompanied it.

‘Everything is in technicolour when I’m with you’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, all the angst was worth it <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this edition to this ever expanding au!
> 
> This au has grown and hopefully the next addition will see some more couples and characters get some light coughcough-pierresteban-coughcough  
> Stay safe, happy and healthy <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm back
> 
> I apologize for the angst! This one was sad to write. Chapter 2 will be up hopefully in the next few days (just gotta write it)
> 
> I hope you liked this, please leave a comment below if you can, or drop by my side blog fullysendittothepitwall to chat!


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